Beginnings and Ends
by imaginefluffy
Summary: They've never known boundaries between each other.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Too short to be one shots, too long to be drabbles. But either way, everyone needs a little more Fitzsimmons. So that's why there's this. Enjoy, and also I own nothing.**

* * *

He's been acting strange ever since this morning and all throughout the day and every time she tries to ask him about it, he brushes it off and says he's fine. But he's not fine. She knows him like the back of her hand and he is definitely not fine.

So she decides to approach him again, telling herself that if he still refuses to confess, this will be the final time she asks.

She finds him in the kitchen area. He's got a mug of tea next to him, but he's toying with one of his newest inventions which is still in the early, simple stages of design. He's assembling it and then taking it apart. She watches him do this twice before she finally says something.

"It's unhealthy to distract yourself. If something's wrong-"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm all right."

"Fitz, you can't expect me to believe that. It's half past midnight and you're still awake. Are you having trouble sleeping?"

This seems to provoke a feeling of uneasiness from him because he drops the pin and the gear he's been holding in his hand. He pauses for a moment, staring intensely at the top of the counter.

"I have to tell you something," he says, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "It's completely ridiculous and it really doesn't even matter because technically it's not real, but it felt real and I can't stop thinking about it, so I have to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Dreams are nothing, right? They stem from nothing, they're made of nothing, and they mean nothing, yeah?"

"Actually, dreams come from your subconscious, so in most cases they're a direct representation of how you feel about something," she says. "Why?"

"I had this dream and I was there, but you were there too and maybe it's not a big deal. Maybe it was just all the chocolate I had before bed and I'm over analyzing this, but I can't get it off my mind."

She notices how he's stumbling through words and how he can barely form a sentence and that concerns her because their communication has always been as easy and natural as breathing.

"Well perhaps if you talk about it, you'll be able to overcome it. What was it about?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Of course you can," she says sincerely, giving him a small smile.

His face turns a light shade of pink.

"All right, we were in the lab, going over a blueprint, which that's fine. That's normal and that's not the part that bothered me. But then we started arguing because we were trying to figure out who came up with the best design and then…"

She's waiting for him to keep going, but he never does.

"And then…?"

He's blushing furiously. She can tell he's trying to formulate his response into words, but it's not happening. Just when she thinks he's going to wave a hand and tell her to forget it, he stands his ground and takes a deep breath.

"Close your eyes," he says.

She frowns out of pure confusion, but her eyelids flutter shut nonetheless and she waits for him to tell her what happened next because maybe it'll be easier for him to tell her when she's not staring at him and putting him under the spotlight. You know, too much pressure and all that.

But that's not the case at all and she suddenly knows what's going to happen before it even happens. She feels him move closer and his hand gently slides to her neck, which sends shivers through her entire body. But her eyes are still closed which is part of the thrill and her heart is racing because she can't see anything. She knows what he's going to do and now she can feel something; his lips are on hers.

She doesn't know how to react, which is just unacceptable because she's had all the bloody time in the world to think this through while he was leaning in. But her logic shuts down and her instincts kick in and take over, which she's grateful for because this is one thing she's not familiar with. She's not used to instincts and going with her gut. She's used to calculations and formulas. But this isn't science. This is more.

The first thing she does is press her lips the slightest bit more against his because if she didn't do something soon, he'd stop and she's not having that.

But suddenly she falls into this quite easily because it's them and she's so used to that; that connection, that synchronization, that understanding. And suddenly they're kissing, actually kissing. He's even got her pressed against the counter and everything. Her hands slide up his chest and latch onto his collar, pulling him closer to her until she can feel his heart beating against her own chest.

It's definitely the perfect mixture of everything she's been missing in life and she's glad she finally found that because it's probably very good for her sanity. It's something to keep her grounded while she floats through midair.

But then he's pulling away and she wants to bring him back to her and never stop kissing him.

He hasn't moved away from her yet and she can still feel his beating heart and his warm breath on her face and she's curious as to what her instincts will tell her to do if he stays like this within arm's reach of her.

Before she gets the chance to find out, he lets go of her and she looks at him. She wishes she hadn't because his eyes are burning into hers and now all she wants to do is finish what he's started.

"Goodnight, Jemma," he says.

She can't speak. Her voice has fled from her throat and she is unable to say anything, despite how much she wants to.

But after he leaves and goes to his bunk she is surrounded by silence, and the silence allows her brain to function properly again.

"Goodnight," she says quietly and much too delayed by this point.

She's not even sure why she said it; it will most definitely not be a good night because she will probably not be able to sleep now or maybe ever.

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**A/N: How was it?**

**Each one is going to be completely unrelated to the next, unless otherwise stated. ****I also have a list of ideas, but if you have suggestions, I'm ready to listen.**

**So feel free to review and follow and yeah all that wonderful stuff.**

**Thanks for reading, lovelies. **


	2. Chapter 2

It was peaceful. It was peaceful and it was quiet and it was perfect. Simmons is sleeping with her head buried in Fitz's neck, her warm breath flooding his skin with every exhale. His head is settled on top of hers and he's breathing in her shampoo, which would explain why he's seeing flickers of strawberries behind his eyelids.

They're completely exhausted. They'd stayed up late working on different things in the lab that simply had to be done and they had apparently reached their breaking point sometime after three in the morning.

Fitz had gone to make them some tea and when he never came back, Simmons had gone up to check on him. She'd found him in his bunk sprawled out on his bed supposedly "resting his eyes." He'd sat up and pretended he'd been awake the whole time, but when she yawned and went to sit next to him (because maybe a small break wouldn't be so bad), they both fell asleep.

It's not necessarily a bad thing though because the more Simmons shifts closer to Fitz, curling against him and letting out a heavy sigh, the tighter his arm wraps around her waist like he's never going to let her go.

Even in their sleep, they're as linked as ever.

They could, and would, have stayed like that for a few more hours at the least, but there's a muffled noise coming from somewhere that's growing unpleasantly louder.

"Guys! Wake up!"

Both Fitz and Simmons open their eyes and stare groggily up at the amused hacker standing over them. They suddenly notice the position in which they've been discovered and jump up and away from each other, more awake than if they'd had a bucket of cold water dumped on their heads.

"Rough night?" Skye asks.

It's hard to tell whose face is the deeper shade of red between the two scientists.


	3. Chapter 3

He's been kidnapped. Kidnapped and imprisoned.

If they keep sending agents into the field who aren't ready to fight and have no previous experience in combat operations, she's going to file a report because this is just ridiculous.

The only good thing about this is that they've located him and are in the process of going in after him.

She can't stand the thought of Fitz being out in the field, regardless of if he's needed out there or not. It makes her sick because he could be hurt. He could be dying.

But she won't think about that.

Instead, she'll busy herself with something else, like cleaning out the beakers in the lab. Yes, that's perfect.

But when she walks into the lab, she sees his jacket laying across the chair that he'd left before setting off on the mission and her mind begins to wander again.

Surely he's fine though because he has to be.

He has to be fine because she's not sure what she'll do without him. The more she thinks about it, the more she regrets dragging him onto this plane with her in the first place because if something's happened to him, it's all her fault.

She accidentally drops one of the beakers and realizes it's probably best if she just breathes for a minute, or maybe longer, she's not sure because her hands are shaking a bit and it feels like someone's reached inside her stomach and twisted her internal organs.

She's about to go upstairs and get a drink to calm her nerves when at that second, she sees Fitz being hauled onto the plane and her heart does this weird clenching thing inside her chest because _he's alive._

He's being supported slightly by Ward but he's still able to walk.

Ward leads him up the cargo ramp, nodding once before leaving Fitz and Simmons alone.

"Are you okay?" she asks, looking him over.

He's got a bruise across his face, along with a few cuts and scrapes, but it's nothing like she had expected, which helps her to breathe again.

"I'm fine. Nothing serious," Fitz says reassuringly, but she can tell he's masking a bit of pain by the way he winces when he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

She's spent the past hour (or had it been longer?) worrying herself mad and she simply has to touch him, has to know that he's still here and that his heart is still beating. So, mindful of his injuries, she gently wraps her arms around him. He wastes no time in pulling her in closer to him, needing this almost as much as she does.

"I'm all right, Jemma. Really," he says against her hair.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," she says, voice muffled against his shoulder. He smiles and wraps his arms around her tighter.

He's so warm and so alive and she can't believe she's almost lost this on more than one occasion.

When she lets go of him, she manages a smile despite the glisten still playing in her eyes that's threatening to turn into something more.

But she will not let it because he is okay and there is no reason for her to be upset anymore.

"Come on, let's get you patched up," she says, and they make their way to the lab.

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**So this was that thing weasleywarrior suggested and I probably totally butchered it but I wanted to at least give it a go. Sad stuff is hard to do. Also you guys are the sweetest, thank you for your support I really really appreciate it. **


	4. Chapter 4

The sun has set and there's hardly anyone on the beach. He finds her sitting in the sand by the edge of the water.

He walks over and sits next to her and she's staring out at the ocean in front of them. Neither of them speaks for a while. The only thing that can be heard is the gentle sound of the waves.

"I haven't been to the beach in ages," she says, which he already knows. There's not really anything she could say that he doesn't already know about her, but he's always willing to listen to her voice regardless.

"Well there's never time to do this sort of thing," he says.

She sighs and lies back in the sand, looking up at the stars.

"A lot has happened this past year," she says quietly. "Almost too much."

"Nothing we couldn't handle."

She giggles and he smiles because he's never going to get tired of hearing that sound.

"It seems like yesterday we were just a couple of kids at Sci-Tech."

"Now we're just a couple of kids on Coulson's team."

She doesn't say anything for a few moments.

"Do you ever miss it?" she asks.

"Miss what?"

"The Academy. Do you miss it?"

"Honestly, not really. Bit of a loner until I met you," he admits. "You changed everything."

He can tell she's looking at him but he keeps his gaze locked straight ahead.

"You changed everything for me too, you know," she says, sitting up, and this time he does look at her.

She's smiling just the slightest and he can't help but smile back.

He really wants to tell her just how much she's changed his life because he's not quite sure she understands.

But then she laces her fingers with his and rests her head against his shoulder and maybe, just maybe, she does realize how important she is to him.

And that's a good thing, and it's about time, because over these past few months he's noticed he can't really live without her.


	5. Chapter 5

It's when he packs his things and says he's done. It's when he says he's leaving and he's not coming back. It's when he can't even look at her because he doesn't want her eyes to trap him and make him stay.

That's when she realizes she needs him.

Not when he'd helped save her life when she was infected with the alien virus. Not when he'd returned from a mission with no extraction team. Not when he'd found her after she'd battled to bring a team mate back to life and simply offered her a hug.

But when he starts to walk away; that's when she realizes that she absolutely needs him.

He's walking down the cargo ramp with his bags in his arms (they've landed for a stop, so he's taking the opportunity) and she follows him.

She's surprised she can even remember how to walk; she's never had so much blatant irritation and fury coursing through her veins. She wants to say everything and nothing all at the same time.

"You can't do this!" she bursts when they both step out into the night air. She's still following after him and he's made it a decent few steps off the Bus by this point.

"Yes I can. I've made my decision and I'm leaving," he says.

She grits her teeth, comes to a sudden halt, and blinks away the blur in her eyes.

"Leo Fitz, you listen to me right now!"

She says it with as much force as she can muster and she's impressed by the fact that her voice doesn't waver.

There's a silence filling up the space around them now and he stops dead in his tracks and turns around.

"Fine. I'm listening."

She sniffs.

"Good. Are you going to tell me what exactly it is that you're doing?"

"I thought that bit was obvious, seeing as I've got my bags and all."

"Look, I know being here has shaken you up, but that doesn't mean you give up and take an out the second you have the chance."

"I never wanted to come here! You think I enjoy having a near death experience every day? You think I enjoy watching someone I care about have a near death experience every day? If it weren't for you, I'd have gotten a one way ticket back home the first time I stepped foot into that metal coffin!"

"Will you stop throwing that in my face? I get it; you didn't want to come here, but you did, and that was _your_ choice! When were you ever promised that this was going to be easy?"

"Whether or not the job was easy was never the issue, but I _was _promised that we'd be standing on the side lines and working in the lab, just like before, but that certainly hasn't happened, has it?"

"This is about you not getting your way?"

"This is about all the times that I've almost lost you, Jemma!"

Another beat of silence.

The wind blows in the background a bit and the tall grass sways at their feet. There's too much she wants to say and too much she can't say, but before she can manage to say _anything_, he's started walking again.

"Sorry. I'm going home," he says. She starts forward to catch up with him.

"You _can't_!"

She grabs his arm and turns him to face her.

"Why not?"

"Because!"

Her voice has risen and she's frantic now because she knows nothing she can say is going to get him to change his mind and her heart is _racing _and she has absolutely no clue what to do.

So she kisses him.

She tugs on his arm that she's already clutching onto and pulls him to her and kisses him. It takes him a few seconds before he drops his luggage and kisses her back, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She hates that she wasn't able to use logic to persuade him, but maybe this will work because this seems to be getting through to him more than words ever could.

She pulls away once she thinks she's made her point, and apparently she has because he makes no move to let go of her.

"That's why," she says quietly as he rests his forehead against hers.

"You know, if you wanted to come with me, we could go right now."

"Fitz…"

There's a small smile on his face now.

"I know. Just thought I'd put it out there."

She looks at him and he answers the question her eyes ask.

"I'll stay," he says.

She nods, wrapping her arms around him and crushing him into an embrace for a few brief moments.

"Let's go," she says, pulling herself away from him. "I'll help you unpack."

It scares her how close she had been to losing him, and she wonders if that's how he's felt all the times he thought he lost her. But what scares her more is that one day, a kiss might not be enough to make him stay. What if one day, nothing she does is enough to make him stay? That thought hurts too badly, so she pushes it away and grips his hand tighter in her own.

She reminds herself that he's staying with her and for her and that it's been like that since day one; the two of them are inseparable.

She's determined to make sure that doesn't change.

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**So after watching the new clip for Tuesday's episode, I was in the mood for something sort of like this. Less fluff, more emotional strain, you know. Sorry it's been a while. All of you guys are still awesome.**


	6. Chapter 6

She checks her microscope and jots something down while he starts working on the hydraulic formula he's been stuck on for a few weeks. It's actually been causing the pair of them a bit of difficulty because when he asks her to double check his work, she always finds a mistake, but can never fix it. They've deemed it as unimportant (mainly because they can't figure it out), so they attempt to solve it in their free time every now and then.

He spends a decent twenty minutes on it before calling Jemma over.

"I've got it this time, I know I have," he says, to which she nods in an unconvinced manner.

The second she takes a look at the equation, she finds at least two major mistakes. Her brain instantly starts searching for the solution.

"Wait, I think I figured it out," she says, taking the pen from him and beginning to scribble.

"No, look, it's still not balanced."

He grabs the pen and moves closer. His chest brushes against her back, but both of them are too focused to notice.

"Fitz, that's still not right."

"Yes it is. See, it's equal now."

"But you wouldn't divide that; not yet. You have to multiply the force before you set them equal."

"That wouldn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense. We're increasing the pressure, not taking it away."

"Well even so, you've got that bit on the end to deal with."

"I know, you just add that into the solved portion."

"Then that's going to throw off the whole equation."

She huffs in aggravation.

"You're not listening to me. I'm saying that we have to solve the original piece first, then take into account the extra-"

"But you're going to have too much-"

"-Bit of the formula so that-"

"-Force and not enough unit area for the solution-"

They're talking over top of each other now and neither can hear what the other is saying. It's largely due to the fact that they've grown tired of this formula and it's frustrating both of them.

They're still arguing when Skye walks in.

"Whoa, what's with the shouting match?"

They go off on her at the same time.

"He doesn't understand the equation-"

"-Won't let me explain anything to her-"

"-Trying to help and this is the thanks I get-"

"Guys!"

They finally stop talking and the hacker decides to take this opportunity to speak before they start going at it again.

"What's going on?" she asks.

"He's having trouble with a formula, but-"

"Me? I'm not the only one. You've been helping and I don't see you coming up with an answer."

"I've only been helping because you wanted me to."

"I never asked you to get involved."

"You ask me _every time_ to get involved!"

"Can I see it?" Skye chimes in before Fitz can supply a comeback. The two scientists stare at her as if she's asked the most bizarre question in the world. She rolls her eyes.

"All right, so I'm not as smart as you, but maybe it's not really a formula; just a puzzle with a missing piece. You know, maybe there's no real logic to it and you're both just over thinking this," she says, and before Jemma can say, "But there _is _logic because it's _science_!" Skye quickly says, "Sometimes it helps to get a second opinion. Or a third, whatever."

They lead her over to the board and Skye can barely make out the original formula due to all of the work they've done around it.

She studies every last bit of it carefully, reading it as easily as she reads people before finally coming to her conclusion.

"Both pieces are the same," she says, to which both scientists reply with blank expressions as if they've never considered this. "Look at this one, then look at that one. If you add them together, you get your answer. You've been trying to separate them and that's why it's not working. You don't divide the two parts; you don't change them at all. You bring them together because they're better that way. Once you do that, everything makes sense."

Skye smiles proudly and Fitz and Simmons still haven't spoken a word; they're both in shock and also a little embarrassed.

"Let me know if you have any more codes you need me to crack."

And with that, she leaves the lab.

"Well," Jemma says after a beat of silence, "that wasn't too difficult."

"Yeah. Knew it all along," he comments casually.

* * *

**Because maybe the equation actually stands for their relationship and Skye the Idealist has to explain it to them since their analytical, rational, scientific brains literally cannot comprehend the concept of love. No? Just me? Okay.**


	7. Chapter 7

The bar is loud, but they've tuned it out. They sit at a booth in the corner. He's resting against the wall and she's leaning on him.

They've been at a SHIELD science convention all day and drinking is proving to be a very good way to unwind. They're on a pleasant buzz in their own world, talking and laughing quietly between themselves.

The only problem is that they're not entirely comfortable because they didn't go back to change before visiting the local bar and formal wear had been required in order to attend the convention. They're dealing with it, though. Jemma's kicked her heels off, muttering something about "death in the form of a shoe" and Fitz has loosened his tie because it's started to make his neck itch.

"Have you decided whose place we're spending holiday?"

"Yours," she comments. "My parents are going to Liverpool for two weeks. It'd be pointless to visit an empty house."

"Then I should warn you that my grandmother has a new dog. An English Spaniel, I think, and surprisingly aggressive from what they've told me. Already attacked one of my brothers."

"Which one?"

"Finley."

She rolls her eyes because she remembers Finley.

"I'll bet he did something to provoke the dog in the first place."

"Not necessarily the dog. He wasn't paying attention and broke one of Gran's teapots. It was an antique, so she turned the dog loose on him."

Jemma laughs.

"I've always liked your grandmother. She's quite lovely if you overlook the time she mistook us for a couple when you had me over for Christmas."

"She's a brash woman," he says. "And technically, that was my fault. Probably should have mentioned to them that the girl I was bringing wasn't actually my girlfriend."

She smiles.

"That might have helped."

She takes another drink, the atmosphere around her going fuzzier still.

"Hey," he says, nudging her slightly. She sits up and puts her feet back on the floor.

"What?"

"How often do you think that happens to us?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, propping her elbow up on the table and resting her head in her hand.

"Do you think we get mistaken for a couple a lot?"

"Nearly every day of our lives," she says with a sigh. "Did you hear Dr. Frye at the convention? Talking about us as if we weren't even standing there, saying how foolish we are for not realizing. There's nothing to realize. Why does it matter to them, anyway?"

Her face is tinted a light pink and he can't tell if it's because of the alcohol or because she's getting worked up.

"Do you think it's something we do? Or something we say?"

"Of course not. The fault doesn't belong to us, Fitz."

"But it has to, doesn't it? I mean, those other scientists who were there today haven't been the only ones to point it out."

"Then the whole universe is delusional."

He chuckles because he's never seen her so bothered by something. It's highly amusing and it makes him think. After a while, he finally says, "What if we were?"

"What?"

"A couple. What if we were a couple?"

"Well," she says with a deep breath, "then I suppose we'd do all the things that couples do."

"Which would mean what?"

She thinks about this and treats it as a serious question rather than a simple pondering.

"We would probably sit really close together because we wouldn't ever want to be apart. And we'd hold hands," she adds, taking his hand and lacing her fingers with his. "In case we're ever scared."

"Every time you'd leave for a mission, I would worry myself sick until you came back. And I'd sneak into your bunk when it gets really cold at night," she continues, resting her head on his shoulder.

She closes her eyes as he mindlessly runs his fingers through her hair.

"We'd kiss," she says quietly.

"What?"

"Yeah," she says, lifting her head to look at him. "Couples kiss, don't they?"

"They do."

"So then we would."

"Right," he says with a nod.

"But we're not," she says, trying to remind herself more than him; it hasn't happened often, but kissing Fitz is one of her favorite things in the world.

"If only," he says.

"Such a shame," she agrees.

Her brain is struggling to keep up with real life, so when he leans in (or does she?) a few more inches and kisses her, her response is a bit delayed.

It's lazy and slow and not nearly as apprehensive as all the other times in the past. They kiss like they have all the time in the world, like they owe it to themselves, like they deserve this, and she doesn't pull away until she realizes that they're still in a very public bar.

He's not sure what to say, so he slurs a "sorry," and she laughs because it's utterly ridiculous for him to apologize for something like that. She settles back against him, thinking how unfortunate it is that neither of them will remember this by tomorrow.

"I'm not," she says, finding the idea of them as a couple more appealing by the second. "I'm not sorry at all."


	8. Chapter 8

"Number eight is equivalence point, not endpoint."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is," she insists. "Is a solution always neutral at endpoint?"

"… No," he grumbles, erasing his answer.

She smiles in a self-satisfied manner and jots down his answer for number ten. They're working on the same homework assignment. He's taken the evens and she's responsible for the odds. It's an efficient way to split the workload, despite the fact that the assignment didn't exactly require two people. They've done this for as long as they can remember, though; divide the work and save time.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not an aspiring chemist," he says, writing down the answer she found for number thirteen.

"The class is required for all advanced science students," she reminds him.

"Guess it's my weak subject," he mutters. "We never have homework in things like physics or differential equations."

"Well, that's why you have me."

"Does that mean you'll do the next sixty questions and let me see your answers when you're finished?"

"Absolutely not. You're not even that bad and you're not getting out of this just so you can go work on the design components for your electroplating device."

"But it's almost done!"

"So am I with number nineteen. Hurry and copy it down so you don't get behind."

"It's not easy. You try gathering materials for the mold," he says. She wonders if he even heard her, but she sees him pick up his pen. "You'd think a copper beryllium alloy would do it…"

"And it would, if it were chrome plated."

He's silent for a few minutes as though he's never thought of this solution before.

"Giving me the information I need to complete my design, but not allowing me to do so. You're both brilliant and cruel," he concludes, completing problem twenty-two.

They work their way through the rest of the problems and end up stuck on the second to last question. It's already nearing one in the morning, so he decides to make them tea while they figure it out. Although, somehow they've sprawled out across his bed and have apparently forgotten about their partially finished homework entirely.

"You've got no taste in music," she comments as she picks up on the tune floating out the speakers of his stereo.

"What are you talking about? This is classic," he says as he sits up and leans his back against the wall. He grabs the slim remote on his nightstand and clicks the volume button upwards about three times.

She pretends to be annoyed, but there's a smile on her face as he moves his head with the rhythm.

"Dance with me."

"You know I don't dance," he says.

"It's not like we're surrounded by a crowd of people." She pulls him up by the hand despite his protests. "It's just me."

She wraps his arms around him and leans on him. His arms circle around her when he realizes maybe this isn't so bad. They sway until the song ends and then the next, and before they know it they've danced through his whole playlist.

"I think I've had my fill of dancing for the night. Probably for the rest of my life."

"Was it that bad?" she asks as they settle themselves back on his bed.

"Terrible," he teases. She nudges him with her elbow and he grins.

"I hope you're fully aware that our assignment is going to receive a below average grade," she says with a sigh, glancing down at the papers scattered across the floor. "Also your room is a mess."

"It's your fault. Half of that disaster is yours. Don't you have your own dorm to destroy?"

"Speaking of that, where's your roommate?"

"Spilled my coffee all over his blueprints last week. Needless to say, he's taken a few of his things and decided to stay elsewhere for the time being."

"You must hate that," she jokes; she's known for a while about how much Fitz despises his roommate.

"They should let us choose the person we room with."

"You'd pick me."

"No I wouldn't. Look at what you've done. I can't even see my floor thanks to your paper clutter. And that's just one night. Imagine if it were like that all the time."

"Yes, because you were the master of organization before I came along," she says, gesturing to the rest of his dorm.

"I know where everything is, so I'd say it works for me," he says with a shrug. "Is that my shirt?"

"Probably. I see several of your shirts lying around in here. Weren't you ever taught that clothes belong in your closet?"

"No, I mean the one you're wearing."

She looks down.

"Oh. I hadn't noticed," she says. "I found it at the end of my bed this morning. I thought it was mine."

He thinks he's suddenly forgotten how to speak. She's never been as beautiful as she is now, her hair curling down past her shoulders and the features on her face lit up by the dim lamp near his bed. Not to mention, she's wearing his shirt for crying out loud, and she hadn't even done it on purpose.

"What is it?" she asks. He must have been staring.

"Nothing. You're… it's… nothing, never mind."

"You can tell me," she says. "It's three A.M. Secrets told after three A.M. are the best ones."

She pulls her legs up and tucks them under her, angling her attentive self towards him. But he doesn't say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses her. It catches her off guard because this is the first time he's ever done that. Before she even has time to process it, he pulls away and puts some distance between them.

"I shouldn't have done that," he says. She doesn't speak, still too shocked. "I mean, I wasn't trying to… you know…"

"I know," she nods, scooting closer to him. Her arms wind around his neck and she gently pulls him back to her, careful not to break the moment. He doesn't have the chance to ask her what she's doing before she kisses his confusion away. His hands settle on her waist.

Something about this whole situation seems familiar, but completely foreign at the same time. She can't seem to figure it out. It's new and different, but not in a bad way. No, everything about this is good. How can her heart be hammering so rapidly? How is that possible?

She falls back against his pillow and drags him with her, never breaking contact. One of his hands inches its way under her shirt (his shirt, technically) and runs along her side. Suddenly, her legs tighten around his waist and pull him down, causing his arms to give out. He loses his balance and topples forward, bumping his head against hers.

He mutters a few curses and she laughs because this is just so very them.

"Are you all right?" she asks, rubbing her thumb across his forehead, a soft smile still lingering on her face.

"Maybe we'll get an extra day to finish our chemistry homework now that I've given us both concussions."

She giggles quietly as he rolls off to lie beside her.

"I thought we already decided that we're taking a lower grade?"

"I never agreed to that," he says. "I'll look up the answers online and you'll be the one taking the lower grade."

Her face grows serious and he looks over at her when she doesn't respond.

"Jemma." He bumps his elbow into her arm. "I was joking."

She shakes her head.

"No, I know. It's not that."

"What's wrong?"

She takes a deep breath and stares up at the ceiling.

"Nothing. I was just thinking."

"What was that thing you said about secrets after three A.M.?"

She smiles.

"That they're the best ones," she says with a sigh. "Just the way you kissed me. It made me realize I've never gotten to truly have that before. The carelessness and the freedom. I never got to have that. I never got to be a teenager. It's always been about being at the top of the class. It's never been about what I want; it's been about what I need to do for myself. Not that I don't want that, but I want other things, too."

He grapples for words and has no idea what to say because he knows her confession fits him just as well. This isn't something he can make some remark about, she can tease him back, and they move on. This is important to her and it is for him, too. He's struggled with that just as much as she has.

"Well if it helps, before you, I felt alone. I had friends, but they didn't understand. No one's ever understood like you do. I used to think academics were everything because that's all I've ever known. It's always come so easily to me, but now it's you. You're the thing that I need to make me feel like I'm not just some machine who's good with numbers and gadgets, like I'm not just a walking, talking brain."

She smiles and shakes her head, one hand stroking softly through the curls of his hair.

"Because you've always been more than that to me."

He thinks for a moment before getting up and walking over to the small fridge beside his closet.

"What are you doing?"

She sits up and watches him dig for something. He pulls out a glass bottle.

"Smirnoff Ice," he says, walking back over to her. "It's Jett's, but he's not coming back. Ten bucks says he's already talked things over with the dorm advisor. I'll have a new roommate by the end of the week."

He pops the lid off.

"So when we hate our roommates, we drink their vodka?"

"When we hate our roommates, we drink their vodka," he confirms with a nod. "To your lost teenage years."

She laughs. He takes a drink and passes it to her.

"Cheers," she says.

They're halfway through the bottle by five in the morning.

"My parents divorced when I was eleven, my granddad died two years ago, and my first pet was a cat named Sammy."

"The first one, definitely. I've only met them once, but I've seen how they look at each other. I want that someday," she comments. "It's a shame about your grandfather, though. I remember hearing about that. And what kind of name is Sammy?"

"For the record, I didn't name him. That was my mother's doing. She thought he looked like a Sammy and it just sort of stuck." He takes the bottle from her. "Your turn."

"Let's see… I hate orange sherbet ice cream, I'd love to travel the world, and I think I need you more than you need me."

"There's no way the last one's true."

"They were all true."

"Cheater."

She grabs the bottle out of his hand and takes a drink.

"Maybe I'm just honest."

"Who doesn't like orange sherbet ice cream?"

She shrugs.

"I like rainbow sherbet."

"Why would you want to travel?"

"I'd like my life to consist of a little more than the lab at Sci-Ops," she says. "Do you think you'd go with me if I ever did?"

"That's a heavy question for this time of night. I'd have to think about it. But what about that last one?"

"What about it?"

"Well it's a lie."

"You think so?"

"I know it is. I already told you how much I care about you."

"Then we'll call it even because I care about you, too."

"Works for me."

They finish their bottle throughout laughter and lazily murmured comments. She's starting to get tired and it's rubbing off on him.

"Let's run away," she says, yawning and closing her eyes.

"What?"

"We're teenagers for the night, remember? You have to run away with me. That's what teenagers do. At least in the movies, anyway."

Her words are slurring together and he's pretty sure she's a few seconds away from sleep. He shuts his eyes and sighs.

"Okay."

Her hand finds his and her fingers interlock with his.

"Promise?"

He squeezes her hand and gives a sluggish smile.

"Promise."

They fall asleep right as the sun rises. Their incomplete chemistry homework lays forgotten on the floor.

* * *

**Academy Fitzsimmons yay. Sorry it's so long. Think of it as an apology for my absence because you're all angels and I'm awful for not updating. **


	9. Chapter 9

"Your bunk's still intact."

"For the most part. I take it yours isn't?"

"Not quite. Bullet holes in everything," she says with a grimace. (It's not until later that he finds out her bunk is, in fact, not completely obliterated and she just simply couldn't bear the thought of being alone. Yes, she is getting better at lying.) "You don't mind if I sleep in here tonight, do you?"

He doesn't even question it. Not after the day they've had.

"I never do."

He moves over and makes room on his too small bed. She sits closer to him than she normally would. Silence. Then, "What are you thinking?"

He takes his time answering. It's a big question, all things considered.

"That we should stay, no matter how incredibly easy it would be to walk away from all of this right now."

"That's what I was thinking."

"No, I know what you were thinking. And I thought about that, too, but we can't do that to Coulson. To whatever's left of the team."

"You know that we're not prepared to deal with this, don't you?"

"There are lots of things we're not prepared for," he says. "We weren't prepared for you to contract an alien virus."

"You can't keep using that as a means of evasion. One of these days, something worse is going to happen and we may not get through it like we have everything else."

"So then now we expect it. We stay alert and ready, because I'm not losing you. And I'm not leaving without you, either."

"You still trust me then?"

"Is that even a question?"

"It's always nice to check. All of these fake double agents are giving me whiplash."

"Well that's one thing I don't want you to have any doubts about."

"I know. I trust you."

He's quiet for a while, mulling things over.

"I bet Fury's alive."

"What makes you say that?"

"Think about it. They told us that no one knew about Coulson, so why would they tell us about Fury?"

"They don't have any secrets left to hide, Fitz. There's no reason for Fury to fake his death."

"Unless he needs to disappear for a while. Unless he's planning something, if he knew the whole time and he's got a plan. Honestly, I don't know why we're not trying to contact him."

"Do you hear yourself? His death has been confirmed. He's not coming back and he's not planning anything."

"His death was confirmed by a fellow agent. How do we know that wasn't Hydra, too? A cover up?"

"You're not making any sense."

"All I'm saying is that out of all the things we've seen, a comeback from Fury wouldn't be as far-fetched as you're making it seem."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we have to start creating conspiracy theories."

"Jemma, things are happening. Completely unhinged things that no one has ever even thought could or would happen. Our mindset has to change. We have to alter the way we think, the way we look at things. We can't do what we've been doing this whole time, believing that everything has an answer and a definitive purpose. We've got to start thinking like-"

"Like Hydra. You want us to start thinking like Hydra?"

"It'll put us a step ahead, won't it?"

She doesn't answer. Her mind is already advancing on her, fabricating alternatives.

"We don't have a choice. There's no way we can leave now."

"I almost wish we could," he says. "We're flying too close to the sun here. Our wings are going to melt off if we stay wrapped up in this madness."

"We'll get Daedalus to fashion us a new pair," she quips, mainly just to see if he'll smile or not. He does. "There's not even anywhere for us to go. What would we do?"

"I could research, if you're really debating it," he offers.

"No, don't bother. I'm staying."

"Then so am I."

She gives him a quizzical look, but he brushes it off.

"I'm not letting something like that happen again," he says. "I'll go where you go, but I'm not leaving you behind."

"Fitz." Her voice is gentle as she takes his hand in hers. "Your priority should not be to make sure that I'm safe. I appreciate it, but that will cost us both our lives. You need to worry about yourself."

"You got stuck at the Hub-"

"And I was perfectly fine when you found me again, wasn't I?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he says, shaking his head. "We need to look out for each other."

She sighs, long and deep. What if whatever they're up against looks for something to use against them? A weakness? Obvious dependability makes them easy targets. She's come to realize this over time. On the other hand, it's gotten them this far.

"You may have a slight point. We've been doing that for years and it's worked somewhat to our advantage."

"So then it's a deal. No matter what happens, we protect each other."

"And if we end up having to choose between another agent we trust-"

"We choose each other," he says with a nod.

"That not only goes against protocol, but also against everything we were ever taught about being honest agents."

"What protocol?" he asks. "My guess is we play by Coulson's rules now."

"He'd never trust us if he found out."

"He's not supposed to find out. It's between us. We're our own team. And if things get worse-"

"We leave. No hesitation, no questions asked."

The air has taken to a slight chill. All of this instantly feels wrong, but it's for their benefit in the end. That's what they keep reminding themselves: it's for their protection. Neither one is opposed to keeping the other safe.

"Try to sleep," he says, his arms encasing her as though they've been glued to her frame, her body tucked against his. She rests the palm of her hand against his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart through his ribcage.

"Thank you for pulling me out of the Hub," she says softly. "And for everything else."

"Like I said, I'm not leaving without you."

She smiles, but he can't see it.

He doesn't stir much through the night. She knows this because it would have woken her, the state she's in making her all the more wary.

She wakes up in the morning with him sleeping soundly and thinks to herself that if she doesn't know what to do for SHIELD, she's at least provided him with some calming solitude for a few hours. And that's enough for now.

* * *

**Secret pacts ftw. I just really need them to stick together through this mess okay**


End file.
